It's a F'thai Cold Night
by Writey Starkid
Summary: Being a Sun king, Roshaun sometimes finds that the climate on Earth gets a little too cold for him... Oneshot. RoshaunxDairine T is probably too high...


**Being a Sun king, Roshaun sometimes finds that Earth's climate gets a bit too cold for him...RoshDair. **

**Apologies if anyone seems OOC; this is my first Young Wizards story. I suppose this takes place somewhere between WH and WAW. Also, I made up the word "F'thai." I was tempted to use "D'Arvit..."**

**I do not own Young Wizards or the song from which the title stems. **

**Enjoy!**

**It's a F'Thai Cold Night**

Dairine was walking down the hall on the way to bed when she heard a voice behind her.

"Dairine?"

She turned to see Roshaun standing there. "What?"

"It's cold," he said petulantly.

"So do a heat spell," she answered, continuing on her way.

"After translocating half a city today? No thank you. Not all of us have limitless reserves of energy, Miss Callahan."

Dairine sighed. Truth be told, after the day's massive wizardry, she herself was too exhausted to cast anything. "Don't call me miss. I think there's a quilt in my closet." She led him into her room and opened the closet door, peering up at the blue lump on the top shelf. "F'thai."

"Did you just swear in the Speech?" Roshaun asked, sounding mildly amused.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never looked it up," she answered, dragging her desk chair over and starting to climb onto it. He stopped her.

"Wait. I'm taller."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, watching him get on top of the chair and reach up for the quilt.

"Got it!" he said triumphantly and, apparently forgetting where he was standing, took a step back and fell. Dairine managed to catch his upper body as the heels of his feet hit the carpet with a painful thud.

"Smooth," she quipped, helping him up.

"Ah, but I got the quilt," he answered, wincing at the ache in his feet.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, well done. Now go to bed."

"Good night, my lady," he said with a sarcastic bow before disappearing out the door.

Dairine returned the chair to its place and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and put on pajamas. When she emerged, Roshaun was sitting on the edge of her bed, arms crossed in irritation.

"What now?" she said, equally annoyed. In answer, he held up the unfolded quilt. "Oh. Right." _That_ was why the quilt had been on the top shelf: so her dad wouldn't see the gaping hole she'd accidentally singed through it with Carmela's hair curler. She took the quilt and chucked it onto the chair, turning to rummage in the closet again. "Here."

Roshaun stared at the oversized sweater she'd tossed him, then looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "This garment smells."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of mothballs. Put it on and get out so I can sleep."

And she almost was asleep when a voice in her mind said, _Dairine…_

_Whaaaaaaat?_

_I'm freezing…_

_Aaaargh,_ she answered.

_I'm sorry, I don't think I translated that correctly…_she could "hear" him chuckling.

A moment passed. She lay still, hoping he would give in.

_Daaaaairiiiiiiine…_

_Fine! Come up here!_ Dairine sat up with a groan, getting out of bed and pulling an old trunk from under it. When Roshaun appeared in the doorway, she thrust an old blanket into his hands. "Take this and shut up."

He looked at it doubtfully. "Is this made of hair?"

"Look," Dairine snapped, losing her temper, "Either you deal with it or you sleep with me!" _Wait…what?_

An unrecognizable expression flickered across his face for an instant, to be replaced with a devilish grin. "Very well. The second one." A moment later he was smirking at her from under her _Star Wars_ bedspread.

"I didn't mean it!" she protested.

"You said it in the Speech," he pointed out.

_Did I? F'thai. I did. _"Out!"

He yawned exaggeratedly, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"Oh for…move over!" Dairine climbed in next to him, jerking the blankets away. He yanked them back, and they played tug-of-war for a few moments before settling down. Warm fingers brushed Dairine's arm in the darkness.

"Why, you little…your hands aren't even cold!"

"Not anymore," Roshaun answered, and she knew he was smirking. She held his hand anyway.

At breakfast the next morning, Dairine poured herself a bowl of cereal, watching as Filif and Carmela chattered excitedly over a fashion magazine. Moving to the table, she sat down next to Roshaun.

"Not still cold, are you?"

"Warmer than I've ever been," he answered, and she kicked him under the table. Hard. He grinned and kicked back.

Harry Callahan stuck his head in. "Does anyone know where the scissors went?"

"I think they're still in my room, Daddy," Dairine answered.

"Thanks." They heard him clumping up the stairs.

"You keep scissors in your room?" Roshaun questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you even know what scissors are?"

"That is beside the point."

"Dairine?" Her father had reappeared in the doorway, holding a familiar length of blue cloth and frowning. "What happened to this quilt?"

Conversation in the kitchen halted as Dairine and Roshaun burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>Of course, Dairine <em>could <em>have just adjusted the thermostat...but what fun would that be?**

**Dai stihó!**


End file.
